Page 151 of I’m Already Gone

Jake returns to his chair, leaving me standing alone at the edge of the grave. The wind chooses that moment to blow a warm gust, soothing something deep within me.

I bend my knees and lower myself to the ground, focusing my eyes on the deep violet coffin, sharing a final, intimate moment with the woman I love.

“Thank you for the wonderful years, for your endless patience, and for making me the man I am today, Lily,” I whisper. “You are my soulmate, my treasure, and the best thing that ever happened to me.”

I tip my head up to the sky, and through the veil of my tears, I notice the sun shining more brightly than it has over the last few days since Lily left us. Today of all days, amidst the heartache, I suddenly feel a strange sense of peace, rather than the despair that has engulfed me since the moment I learned she was gone.

A fresh breeze sweeps by once again, and I can’t help but smile at the thought that it is Lily looking down at us, delivering a silent message that everything will be alright.

“I know how hard you fought,” I say into the vast, blue sky. “And that I will be okay. That we will all be okay because of you.”

Glancing back down at the casket, fresh tears fall. “I will take care of our children and remind them every single day of how much you loved them,” I add, tossing my own bouquet of lilies and roses below. “I love you, Sunshine. I will love you forever, and I will see you again.”

I straighten to my full height and join my family as the staff begins shoveling clumps of earth onto the coffin. Each thud is a painful punctuation mark, sealing her away forever.

Lily’s existence was that of a flower, full of color and life. She provided unconditional love and served as a source of strength to her children, her family, her friends, and me. Despite the unimaginable hardships she went through, she blossomed beautifully under pressure, facing illness with grace and an unwavering spirit, proof that she survived the harsh storms of life. She was resilient. Her infectious smile, her passion for the bakery, and her ability to make people smile were like a sprinkle of pure joy in the world. And all she ever needed was to be cared for and loved. I failed her once, but I’m grateful Lily gave me a second chance, a chance to truly love her, to cherish her the right way, and to be loved by her until her very last breath.

Ethan

The doorbell chimes as I rinse the last dish and slide it into the dishwasher. Grabbing a paper towel, I dry my hands and head for the front door.

Through the peephole, I see Sam clutching a purple box to her chest.

Unlocking the door, I swing it open. “Since when did you stop using the key?”

She offers a small, hesitant smile. “I’m sorry…it’s not…”

I nod. “Not the same.”

“Yeah,” she replies softly.

I step aside, gesturing for her to come in. “Regardless, you are always welcome here, Sam. You still have the key.”

“Thanks, Ethan.” She walks past me, and I shut the door behind her.

“Where are the kids?” she asks, glancing up the staircase.

“They’re at my parents’ place,” I reply.

They’ve been spending more time there lately. It’s too hard for them to stay in a home filled with memories of Lily.

“So, is it true?” she asks. “Are you selling the house?”

I nod, tucking my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. It’s not easy on them.”

And me, I want to add.

Hell, I’ve been sleeping in the guest room since she passed away. It was too difficult to lie in our bed, the sheets still unchanged, unwashed. I can’t bring myself to get rid of her scent or be around it. Not yet, anyway.

My eyes are drawn to the package in her hands. “Is that for me?”

“Yes.” She glances down, giving it a gentle squeeze before handing it to me.

“It’s from Lily,” she adds softly.

My heart seizes. “Wh-what?”

Sam swallows hard. “When you started taking care of her, she wrote letters for you and the kids. There are instructions in the box,” she explains, waving her hand over it.